


The Gardens of Versailles

by Alazatours



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M, It’s easier for me to write inserts, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:42:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29611671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alazatours/pseuds/Alazatours
Summary: Time works differently what can I say. I didn’t edit this, may be rough on edges-Enjoy :)
Relationships: France (Hetalia)/Reader





	The Gardens of Versailles

Dear ____,

The gardens are beautiful in Versailles, I hope I can show them to you one day. The grand halls and nouveau swirls are much better appreciated in other’s company. I’m sure that you would enjoy our gilded chandeliers and the high ceilings that would cater to your voices echo. 

I have longed to see you in person again. In two months time there will be a party at this palace, care to come? I wish to know you better, these letters have gotten so tedious, don’t you think?

Sincerely,  
Francis Bonnefoy

-

He had been writing letters to her. They were written in dark blue ink and sealed with red rose-patterned wax dots. Every single month they were filled with questions and curiosities, commentaries and light jokes. In response she would mail the same, hoping that one day she could ask about the small flirts and roses that came with each one. 

It was a long day for the rest of the nations as they settled some diplomatic negotiations while partying under the chandeliers of Versailles. They all danced until the soles of their feet were sore while running their mouths dry with the day's drama. But after a couple of short waltzes, she found herself lingering around in a room decorated with oil paintings. Each one of them told their own story, a story of man and the beauties of their short lives. 

“Isn’t Versailles beautiful?” 

She turned her head towards the voice and smiled. Walking towards her was the man himself, Francis Bonnefoy, dressed in a decorated suit with a lace and jeweled cravat. He waved and chuckled at the look on her face, which was shocked yet painted with blush. As nations they have already seen each other before, but the occasion is just as rare as any. 

With a dose of relief, she said, “it is.”

With no hesitation, he came to her side and guided her to the nearby window, “you’ve dressed up today.”

“Was I wrong to?”

He laughed and gazed out the window, “No, you don’t want to blend in with the others.”

“The others?” she tilted her head at the connotation. He looked down at her to get a careful look at the contours of her face, willfully enamored by their proximity. The makeup matched her tone and the jewelry she wore highlighted the intricacies of her outfit. He knew very well that she tailored it to the extremes. She caught his look, “Is there something wrong?”

He stammered over his words and straightened his back, “Don’t worry about it.”

They stayed silent for a while. It was only a brief moment in every couple of minutes that they exchanged glances and laughed about it. The only thing that made more sound was when their clothes rubbed against their skin. That or when the bottoms of ____’s dress glided along the tiled floors. 

After mustering enough confidence to bring it up, she whispered, “your penmanship is beautiful.”

“Of course it is,” he replied. ____ smiled at the snarky nature of his comment, taking note of the small smirk that pulled at his lips. 

“Your words are too,” she said. Without facing her, he caught her acts through his peripherals. She was leaning and staring out the window, elbows perched and chin resting on her palms. Francis joined her too. 

Down below were gardens and decorated statues. The flowers have bunched in on themselves as the sun set over the horizon while a large pool rested in the middle of it all. Playing and running around in the gardens was a young boy and his parents, trying to get a thrill out of its stone paths and trees. 

“We’re very fortunate,” she mumbled. Francis nodded and stared at her. 

“I’m glad to have seen you, ____,” he replied, smiling at her comment. It was true, as nations they were both busy people regardless of the time they had. Visits and meetings were rare, especially with Arthur and Gilbert creating a lot of fuss everywhere they went. Unfortunately, it was usually them who had to help clean up the mess afterwards. 

____ nodded, her eyes fixated on the noble couple and their son. Upon observing the boy, a low pressure formed in her chest. A frown tugged at her lips and before Francis was able to ask, he too knew what she was running through her mind. Time worked differently for them, falling in love with a human was a sorrowful trap most of them were more than aware of. Plus, nations getting together was often something out of the radar. All the work and problems it could cause made it worth avoiding. 

Despite the thoughts clouding her mind, Francis gently placed his hand over hers. He squeezed it lightly only after they had adjusted to the warmth of his touch. She accepted the advancement and any thought of denial fell deaf on her ears. The dull soreness situated at her heart wandered off for now and she could only hope that it would stay that way for the rest of the evening. 

“It’s something we all have to accept sooner or later,” he assured. He was three years older than her and for sure he had seen much more than she could imagine. It was no surprise that he knew where she was coming from. While he weaved his fingers with hers he told her, “time is just cruel to us.”

She sighed and stared at the faint reflection of themselves on the window, “I just wish it wasn’t this way.” She looked herself in the eyes and came face to face with her lack of mortality. Regardless of the years that have passed her face has stayed the same for the most part. She shook her head, “I was only a young girl when they told me it was something I had to get used to.”

“Have you?” He asked, while soothing his thumb over the back of her hand. Another wave of silence followed as she took a second to process her answer. Her mind paced around in order to give a genuine answer and yet it almost fell short. 

“I have,” she paused. She furrowed her brows as her voice came off sharp. He was waiting for more substance because experience told him that there was much more waiting to come off the tip of her tongue. After looking at the family once more the words slipped, “But I’m still envious.”

“So am I,” he mumbled. His answer caught her off guard and left her taking a deep breath. They made eye contact for a brief moment to pair up with their answers. He smiled awkwardly and got flustered while worry plastered her face. She was leaning closer, trying to get a deeper answer. 

But without thinking twice, she moved towards him and rested her head against his chest. His response was quick, he wrapped his arm around her waist and moved the other to the back of her head. It was a natural for him, or at least it felt that way. All she could do was reciprocate the physical touch, holding him close and refusing to let go. 

He found himself looking at their reflection in the window, double checking to see if it was all real. The embrace was light and yet it felt far too warm for what it was. There was no turning back from this. It all was just a matter of who was going to seal the deal, all until-

His heart warmed up and yet he could not help but frown into her locks. He moved her head closer to his chest, aware of what consequences may meet them had any of the others found out. Exercising caution was necessary when around Antonio, Gilbert- and especially Arthur…

He had to be methodical and careful but lying to himself was uncalled for, “Tu es plus belle en personne,” he whispered.”

“Francis?” She gasped. 

He laughed loud enough for only her to hear and planted a light kiss to her temple. She stood still in bliss, happy that she was not the one to have sealed the deal. However, she was more than aware that Francis would have done it easily.

Monaco watched from the doorframe, quietly cheering them along by the minute. She was there to tell them that the other nations were expecting their return. But she supposed that it was nice for them to have a moment of peace, after all, the nations back at the ballroom were getting feisty. She walked to them and waved, catching Francis’s attention. 

“Lucille?” Francis called. It was a breath of fresh air knowing that it was her and none of the others. She was practically his sister, a quiet one too. 

She nodded sheepishly and rubbed her hands together, staring at ____ in glee. ____ lifted her head towards Lucille and chuckled while giving her a kiss on the cheek. Lucille leaned in and whispered, “Thank you for giving him company.”

“Is there trouble going on?” Francis asked, almost slightly annoyed that the moment came to an abrupt end. 

“The nations are waiting for you to formally end the party,” she replied. “They’re getting impatient.”

“Bah,” Francis cringed, taking ____ by the hand and dragging her with him. “You don’t want to be late for your carriage ma chérie…”

She hid her face within her freehand as another wave of blush carried over. Lucille patted her back and followed the two out of the room. Before they entered the main hall, Francis planted a kiss on her knuckles before hastily letting go. It was necessary that no one saw them, at least for now. 

Lucille got the message and led ____ down a flight of stairs that would reunite her with the rest of her companions. She managed to blend in quickly, not many people even bothered to bat an eye. To add on, not many people have likely noticed her leaving either. 

“____!” Emma ran towards her, waving her hands around and nearly jumping up on her toes. She stopped and held ____’s hands, “Where have you been?”

“Looking for the bathroom was difficult.”

“Oh,” Emma sighed. “Well I’m glad you made it just in time for the party to end.”

“Me too,” ____ replied. “I wouldn’t want to be late for my ride home.”

“Yes, of course, of course,” Emma rambled. “Please, enjoy yourself.”

“Yeah will do,” ____ nodded, wandering off and bumping into a peculiar Brit. His face was rather flushed and god he had more alcohol than he could handle. 

“____!” He called, patting her shoulder repeatedly. “I haven’t seen you all day!”

“Arthur,” she said half-assed. “How are you?”

“Darling I’m great! God I was scared that the frog got you to sign a treaty,” he slurred. 

“Yeah,” she nodded while looking for a way out. “Arthur have you finally decided what religion you are?”

“Oh my god,” he mumbled, fixing his posture and rubbing his cheek. “Am I Protestant or Catholic?”

“You go fix that,” ____ said, hiding herself away into the crowd. 

Instead of trying to stop her he threw his hands up, “God I don’t know!”

-

An hour passed and by then Francis had already formally brought an end to the party. Nations were leaving in droves as the night began to settle. They all had other business to tend back at their homelands. After all, any diplomatic signings had already been accomplished, many left feeling satisfied with their method of work. ____ on the other hand, slipped away from all the crowds and wandered back into the hallways of Versailles. 

“What the hell am I doing,” she mumbled to herself. She scratched the back of her head and continued to walk along the decorated halls. Her eyes constantly wandered around the detailed and free flowing edges of furniture. It was all elegant and within these walls everything served a purpose in beauty. “Francis really outdid himself.”

Truth be told, she never requested a carriage for herself. Something within her childish mind had told her that she would not be leaving Versailles tonight. Perhaps those letters of his had really tugged at her heart strings. Perhaps those silver tongued words of his played straight into her psyche. That or perhaps her gut feeling convinced her that there was more than what meets the eye. 

Upon hearing footsteps, she turned around and froze, “Oh, Francis.”

Shocked and relieved, he walked to her, “____? I thought you had left by now.”

“I was looking for you,” she said. 

His eyes lit up at her response, warmed by the fact that she stayed back for him. Maintaining eye contact with one another was difficult. Even after their gazes met they both would look away as if the situation was grossly awkward. They were familiar with one another based on the context of those letters. However, the aura shifts by a strong amount when physical touch is possible. 

Once he got to her she shrunk down and squeaked, “I wanted to talk to you, actually…”

He took her hand again and tilted his head towards the end of the hallway. She followed suit and let him guide her around the palace. His hold on her hand was gentle and firm, he held her like fine pottery and expensive silks. At the same time it was comforting and inviting, the way he held her promised a journey worth her stay. 

Her heart beat against her rib cage as the sight of their slight intimacy brought an anxious rain into her gut. She could not help but find herself embarrassed to be in front of his beauty, a man groomed and taken care of, no hair left astray. She was cautious to not overreact and make her seem like such an “imperfect lady.”

But would he go as far as to care that much? Likely not. 

She squeezed her face to save her from her thoughts only to earn an amused look from him. They were still walking but this time his eyes checked on her more often. He was getting impatient too, but he saw no area to mess up. He was also well aware of her awkwardness, but it was nothing worth fussing over. 

“What keeps you so occupied?” He asked, seeing if there was a way to break the ice. 

“It’s nothing,” she retorted. 

He laughed and stopped the two of them promptly to open up a door. Upon him opening the door, he led her to the edge of a balcony. One that revealed the entrance of Versailles. She smiled at the sight as night seemed to fade over the two of them. The stars in the night sky began to glow brighter as her attention fixated on them. Francis leaned against the rails and admired her fascination. 

Finally without worry of the other nations, he could admire the soft glow of her cheek. From his pocket he pulled out a rose and held it in front of her. She giggled at the sight and wafted its scent towards her nose before placing it into her hair. He yearned to get closer to her, but the small romantic gestures could suffice for now. 

“How pretty,” she chimed. Before she could lean further, Francis tapped her shoulder. She got the message and stayed put, only getting excited when she saw some familiar faces. “Look! It’s that family we saw earlier today!”

His heart stopped, he knew it was only a matter of seconds before she would find disappointment. The boy waved at her and she reciprocated and the dull soreness that built up earlier came back to bother her. A familiar loneliness crept around the corners, reminding her that a ‘normal’ life was beyond the scope of her reality. She worked day and night for the joy of her people and her reward was more work and an eternal existence. No retiring, no family, no children, and no desire to explore when one seems to live forever. 

She frowned and played with the lace of her dress in order to save her from this bout of existentialism. He noticed the body language and rested his hand on her shoulder. He was expecting her to flinch but she stayed still, thankful for the fact that someone was there by her side. Not to mention, but someone who has seen the world in a similar lens. She turned her head towards him and he mouthed, “It’s okay, je connais.”

He patted her back and led her back inside the palace, promptly closing the door behind them as they entered. A sigh passed her lips as she rubbed her cheek while accidentally wiping some makeup off. It was a day longer than most but she was lucky enough to be away from a carriage. Again, Francis was guiding her through the halls, singing out random facts about his current home. His knowledge was expansive, he never forgot a thing despite the passing time. 

“I’ve almost forgotten how time flows for us,” her voice starting strong but fading into a whisper. 

His smile was weak and the bitter truth she presented began to wrap around his lungs. In their quiet moment they were followed by the shadow of their supposed human selves. After all this time walking and being anomalies of time, for sure they must have gotten used to it. Haunted by the voices and people they have seen pass. So clear were their faces and intense were the memories, was it even possible to forget?

Maybe. 

“Francis?” She stopped. 

“Yes?”

She took a moment and squeezed his hand, “If I sleep for one night, how old will that little boy be?”

He shook his head and ignored her question, “Let’s keep going.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. 

He opened another set of doors and led her to a sofa, “today has been stressful, take a seat.”

She attempted to remove the outer layers of her clothing but not without struggle. It was until Francis noticed her trial that he helped her out of the poofy petticoats and corset. From there she was left in a plain dress that she would have gotten away with wearing casually. She thanked him for his help and then proceeded to take a seat on the sofa, leaning and resting her head on the armrest. 

For sure if this was anyone else’s home she would be reluctant to even step into the bedroom or stay for longer than the event time. But staying here by Francis’s company was rewarding in comfort and interaction. It was not long until she looked up again to be met by Francis dressed in a pale pink silk robe over cotton pants. She smiled at his presence and he sat on the floor beside her. 

“Hey,” she called. He turned his body and propped his elbow right beside her body. 

“What is it?” He asked, resting his head in his hand. 

“Have you ever wondered why we’re this way?” She said. She fiddled around with his platinum locks while trailing her thumb around the top of his ear. He caught her hand and kissed the bottom of her palm before holding it once again. 

“Sometimes yes,” he told her. 

He too was troubled by the topic but for her sake he bottled up his own feelings. There were many cold thoughts that he hid in the back of his mind, things that would make her coping difficult. A dry laugh escaped her throat, grieving about their loss. From the bottom of her heart she truly believed that immortality was a robbery. A crime worthy of being sued, but who would she even take to court?

“I understand,” she replied, fighting off that negative pressure that was threatening to break loose. Her grasp on his hand grew tight again as her lips quivered. Her hands shook and her eyes watered, she gritted her teeth, “it’s not fair.”

“Je connais,” he whispered. 

“My first love was human,” she said. “He had a beautiful family.”

“You never talked to him?” He asked. 

Her smile was faint and her head went light, “No… he was already gray when a year had gone by for me.”

She chuckled while attempting to smile as the thoughts that she fought away began to crash down on her. After taking a deep breath she looked down and whimpered. Of the many things she could remember with point blank accuracy, there were many that should have been left on the top shelf. Already able to see through the facade, Francis remained quiet for a minute. 

“Je vois,” he mumbled, eager to move away from the topic. 

Upon their shoulders they carried the weight of worlds and the dreams of those before them. Their joy derived off the success of their people and the paths they have paved for themselves. But they have also seen nations die, an internal fear that secretly speaks of freedom. Yet to wish for such a thing would be selfish against their own people. For them and many others, they could only wonder that when a nation falls to the hands of time, are they blessed with being reborn human?

Yet here they were and the cards were almost too right. Francis brought her hand to his cheek and laughed, making her heartache on the matter. The room was silent enough for him to hear her heartbeat rush and once she realized, she bit her tongue. The look he gave her told her enough stories about empathy and loose-ended pursuits. It was until-

“Je t’aime,” he told her. 

“Francis.”

“I’m serious,” he added. 

She knew he was. Knowing him, he would never lie when it came down to something like that. After all, he would have never sent those letters if he meant otherwise. The letters, within them was his truest self, there was seemingly no difference between him now and the words he expressed within them. This was not a game to him and perhaps that was why she was so scared of it. 

“Don’t give me hope,” she said. 

It would be too difficult. The treaties, the language, the economy, security, and anything within the realm of diplomacy. She cupped his face and glared with tears poking at her lower lash, “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“Of course I do,” he reassured. “Do you trust me?”

“Francis, I don’t know,” the words fell out. She was still trying to process the situation, conflicted and speculative of her next actions. She took it back, “no, that’s not what I meant, it’s just-”

He hushed her and massaged her hand, “Relax, ma chou-chou…”

“What is that meant to mean?”

“Just a nickname,” he said, laughing lightly.

This was madness, she was aware of his feelings and for sure he knew damn well she was in on it too. They finally had a chance to feel just a little human and yet she wanted to flee from it. She was infatuated, hooked to this ordeal. Her mind was on overdrive, after years of yearning for this moment it was finally within her grasp. 

It was too late to run anymore. This was a familiar pain they both have had to haul around for too long. They needed love and they needed compassion, company, a sense of security. There was going to be drama, it will be inevitable. There is going to be compromise and at this rate who cared?

He soothed her cheek and later placed his hand under her chin, his eyes taking a quick glance at her lips. She looked at him for reassurance and he replied with a genuine smile. He meant no harm. In fact, this moment was a promise to live as they have dreamed. They could only get so close towards morality and this was the way to go. 

Within a brief moment, he kissed away the worries that fled from her lips. It was quick and fulfilling, light but deeper than the Mediterranean. It was a disastrous promise, one that told them freedom. The thought occurred to her, what would they think? 

Already a step ahead of her he said, “They don’t matter.

He pulled her in for another kiss and to hell with it he was right. Her boundaries were shattered and her breaths were weaving reckless tales. At this rate she was gladly kissing him back, but still reluctant at entering this diplomatic game that was playing. What would she tell them? What would they say?

He pulled away and cupped her face, his own flushed by the growing intensity, “Listen to me, mon amour they don’t matter.”

It was unforgettable and with another kiss sealing the fact that she has gladly moved to France, she truly let herself go. Responsibilities, diligence, did it really matter? For the love of God was she not entitled?

Intoxicated by the moment and with the tips of their noses touching she replied, her voice low and hoarse, “they don’t matter…”

And that was when it stopped. He pulled away and observed the look of her face after her own words dawned on her. A cheeky smile of relief ushered over the both of them as they began to laugh about their petty worries. As he came down to playfully peck the tip of her nose she found herself waltzing heedlessly on the pins and needles of freedom. He smiled with content and stood up, lifting her from the couch, “Mon trésor, I am tired... ”

He placed her on his bed and he got in right after. He pulled up the blankets and stretched, yawning and wrapping his arms around her waist. She enveloped herself in the warmth radiating from his body, hiding away in the fluffy sheets and cold pillow. As he kissed the back of her neck she was more than aware of the foolish bargain they were playing together. Yet the sense was euphoric and her motivation was sound...

For once in a long time, she finally felt human. 

-

Before he fell asleep he whispered into her ear, “Bonne nuit.”

“Bonne nuit.”

“You pronounced it wrong,” he groaned and she laughed. 

“Good night,” she said, rolling over with her thoughts going astray. 

He murmured to her, “Did you like today?”

She nodded and whispered with half-opened eyes. 

“The gardens are beautiful in Versailles…”

-

End

**Author's Note:**

> Give me character suggestions. Must write more.


End file.
